After Balthazar finished checking his status bar, he turned his dragon head toward a patch of trembling shadows in the mine tunnel.
There was a group of Kobolds who had long since been shivering with fear, prostrate on the ground and not daring to lift their heads.
Although they possessed a thin trace of dragon blood, in the face of true Dragon Fear, instinctive terror made them afraid to even breathe loudly.
The shadow cast by Balthazar’s massive body loomed over them.
He lowered his noble head, his gaze accurately locking onto a slightly larger Kobold, about one meter thirty tall, with deep green skin and a small, weathered, pale white hatchling dragon skull on its head.
This was the Kobold Balthazar had seen before.
“Hoo…”
A low rumble, like the grinding of gears, came from deep within his throat.
Balthazar slightly opened his fanged maw, his vocal cords vibrating with great difficulty as he spoke the World Language.
“You… come here.”
The green Kobold who was pointed out shuddered violently.
It scrambled up from the ground in a panic, tail tucked between its legs, and trotted tremulously to Balthazar.
With a “thud,” it threw itself flat on the ground again, its forehead pressed hard against the floor, shaking like a leaf.
Balthazar narrowed his dark red eyes, and his massive dragon head leaned close to the tiny figure, close enough for the other to feel the smell of sulfur and blood in his breath.
“Name…”
He spat out the World Language word by word, his voice as deep as thunder in his chest, “Tell… me.”
“…Also.”
He paused, seemingly searching for words in his mind, then his blood-stained sharp claw lightly scratched a spark on the ground as he continued in that commanding tone:
“Tribe… number… how many?”
The green-skinned Kobold leader was moved to tears by the overwhelming scent of sulfur.
The weathered hatchling skullcap on its head made a “clack-clack” sound from the violent trembling.
In its eyes, the behemoth before it, which had just slaughtered the elite human mercenaries like cutting vegetables, was the incarnation of destruction and rebirth from myth.
Hearing the clumsy yet supremely majestic question in World Language, it didn’t dare to show even a hint of mockery.
Instead, as if hearing a divine oracle, it banged its head against the gravel-covered ground repeatedly.
The skin on its forehead instantly broke, oozing green blood.
“Gre… Great… An… Ancestor!”
It stammered back in the same unfluent World Language, its voice shrill and piercing, filled with humility and a desire to please.
“This little one… this little one’s name is… Klar! I am… the leader… of these useless ones…”
The Kobold named Klar raised its head slightly.
Its cloudy yellow eyes stole a cautious glance at Balthazar’s blood-stained mouth, then immediately shrank back in fear, as if even a look was a profanation.
“Tribe… we are… the ‘Iron-Eater’ tribe…”
It swallowed hard and hurriedly held up two withered claws with only three fingers each, gesturing there as if terrified that a slow answer would result in being swallowed whole.
“Num… Number! Total… thirty… thirty-three!”
Klar worked hard to count its meager assets in its head, reporting at a very fast pace:
“Adults who can mine…
twelve!
Fe…
female Kobolds who can lay eggs…
ten!
And…
and five newly hatched young…
the rest are old ones…
if…
if the Great Ancestor is hungry…
those old ones…
the meat is sour…
but can be eaten…”
After it finished speaking, it immediately turned back and issued several sharp and fierce barks toward its kin who were also prostrate behind it.
“Woof! Squeak!”
At the leader’s command, several slightly stronger Kobolds immediately scrambled to pull several pieces of ore emitting a faint silver light from the baskets on their backs.
That was the unrefined Mithril Ore they had been desperately digging out from the depths of the pit over the past few days after seeing Balthazar.
Klar held the pieces of ore high above its head, as if sacrificing the most precious treasure in the world, and tremblingly delivered them to Balthazar’s massive claw.
“This is… tribute! All… shiny stones… belong to you! Great… Dragon Emperor!”
“We… can dig holes… make traps… and… smell the scent of metal…”
“Please… don’t eat… Klar… Klar… is useful…”
Even though Balthazar had already accepted their tribe as slaves before, serving a monarch is like living with a tiger, let alone when their monarch is a giant dragon.
It worried that if it couldn’t prove its tribe’s usefulness, the only end for lowly creatures like them would be to become this dragon’s excrement tomorrow.
“Very good.”
Balthazar squeezed these two words from deep in his throat.
The satisfied low growl exploded over Klar’s head like muffled thunder, making the poor Kobold leader’s eardrums buzz.
His massive dragon claw casually toyed with the pieces of Mithril Ore that emitted tempting magic fluctuations.
His sharp nails scraped against the surface of the ore with a piercing sound, leaving deep gouges.
Although the purity of these ores was not high, as a snack, they were better than nothing.
“Assemble… tribe.”
Balthazar raised his head, his dark red vertical pupils scanning the entrance of this pit that was already permeated with the scent of death and blood.
This place was no longer hidden.
With the annihilation of the Black Dog Mercenary Group, a larger-scale retaliation would soon follow.
As a qualified ruler, before one’s strength reaches the point of crushing everything, strategic relocation is a necessary wisdom.
“Prepare… to migrate.”
That raspy, awkward voice, yet one carrying unquestionable magic, echoed among the empty rock walls.
Every syllable was like a hammer striking the Kobolds’ fragile mental defenses, carving this command into their instincts.
“Yes! Yes! At your command! Great Emperor!”
Klar gave a start and scrambled into the nest deeper in the pit, howling meaningless “ga-woo ga-woo” sounds as it ran.
Balthazar watched with satisfaction as the busy silhouette of the Kobold disappeared into the darkness.
He turned around and walked toward the core of the temporary nest with heavy but steady steps.
His massive dragon body passed through those winding tunnels, rubbing against the damp rock walls with a coarse sound.
Upon entering the core area of the nest, the bloody and foul smell in the air was replaced by a scent of earth and a rich aroma of heather.
Olga was standing beside Chloe, who had fallen back into a deep sleep.
Chloe was held up by Olga’s magic, suspended in mid-air.
Olga used a relatively clean piece of linen to carefully wipe the sweat from the sleeping Chloe’s forehead, and then meticulously cleaned some of the turbid fluid from the corner of her lips.
The knight’s originally disheveled clothing had been rearranged.
Although it could hardly be called complete, it at least covered that tantalizing body, making her look somewhat decent.
Looking at that slightly curved, delicate body, the Queen’s face was pale.
Her fingertips lightly brushed over Chloe’s peaceful sleeping face, a trace of unnameable complexity lingering in the depths of her eyes.
Anger, shame, sadness, and the worry from hearing the sounds of battle and screams earlier—all of it finally transformed into a numb sense of resignation.
Sensing the approach of a massive figure, Olga looked up.
The madness and hysteria from before had faded from her face, and her amber eyes met Balthazar’s dark red vertical pupils with a calm gaze, her tone regaining a hint of its former coldness.
“It seems… the ‘performance’ outside is over?”
She was referring to Balthazar’s one-sided slaughter just now.
The Queen’s slender fingertips rested lightly on the unconscious Chloe’s wrist, feeling the lingering trace of agitation within the knight’s body, before using magic to place her on the pile of straw on the ground.
“I… thought… you would… cast her aside…”
“No matter what I look like in your eyes, I am not a heartless monster, Balthazar.”
Olga reached out, gently wiping away a fresh bead of sweat from Chloe’s forehead, and said to Balthazar:
“I see Chloe’s loyalty clearly. I know her love and devotion to me, and how much effort she is willing to put in to repay even the smallest kindness I’ve bestowed upon her.”
“Precisely because she is so loyal to me, I promoted her to be my knight, even though she is an impure half-blood Dark Elf.”
“…Your Majesty…”
As if hearing Olga’s evaluation of her in her slumber, Chloe let out a soft murmur.
Hearing Chloe call out for her even in her dreams, showing such loyalty, caused a faint smile to appear on Olga’s face.
“…Balthazar… Your Majesty…”
Upon hearing that name, the smile on Olga’s face froze, and she let out a snort of derision.
“In any case, I will take care of her while she is unconscious, condescending to act as a maid… because you wouldn’t want a Kobold serving your wife, would you?”
Balthazar nodded silently.
There were, of course, female Kobolds, but their clumsiness was identical to that of the males.
Letting these female Kobolds care for Chloe would only result in a clown show of them throwing dirty rags at their companion’s face.
Seeing Balthazar’s agreement, Olga cast aside the sackcloth and returned to her image as the high-and-mighty Queen, her eyes once again filled with a pride that looked down upon all things.
“Is it time to move?”
Olga asked softly, her tone no longer sharp.
Evidently, this “foolish” Queen had finally accepted the established fact that the powerful creature before her was re-establishing order.
At the same time, she had anticipated that Balthazar would move his lair—the fact that she had already packed her and Chloe’s belongings was the best proof of this.
Balthazar’s dragon head gave a slight nod.
“That’s right…”
His raspy voice was simple and powerful, like a heavy millstone grinding over a coarse rock surface. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
He lowered his head slightly, and the metallic scent unique to the dragon race, mixed with a faint smell of sulfur, drifted around Olga’s nose.
“Do you have… any ideas?”
Olga quietly met Balthazar’s oppressive, direct gaze.
After the Queen pondered for a moment, a trace of depth flashed in her amber eyes.
“I think… we should go North.”
Olga’s finger pointed deeper into the mines, in the general direction leading north and away from the Black City.
That was a mountain range permanently frozen in ice, the direction of Nidavellir, the sacred homeland of the Dark Elves.
“To a more… secluded place,” the Queen’s voice was like a snow-capped peak, cold and distant.
“To the black… mountains. There are my… old memories.”
When Olga mentioned the “black mountains,” the corners of her lips curled into a slightly nostalgic sneer.
“One day, I will make those sisters of mine suffer divine retribution…”
“Retribution for casting aside an outstanding Dark Elf like me.”
As Olga’s voice fell, two status bars appeared before Balthazar’s eyes.
They were the status bars for Olga and Chloe.
Dark Elf Queen – Olga Discordia (Olga Discordia)
Current Status: Has entered into a deal with you, using her body as a bargaining chip in exchange for the ability to restore her kingdom and take revenge on the human mercenary group, Black Dog.
Through her subordinate Chloe, Olga has temporarily satisfied the terms of the deal with you and accepted your current leadership position.
Stat Profile:
HP: 80/80
MP: 450/450 (Weakened)
Strength: 3 (As a Dark Elf mage, she does not excel in strength, but she is still stronger than an average human.)
Agility: 4 (Similarly, she is stronger than humans due to racial talent.)
Stamina: 3 (Although her body is immortal, fatigue still accumulates. Her stamina is only slightly better than a normal adult human’s.)
Intelligence: 25 (A premier mage in the Black Beast World, though her magical abilities are currently in a weakened state.)
Perception: 15 (Strong perceptive abilities brought about by mental cultivation and racial talent.)
Equipment:
Queen’s Gown: A gown that can cover the entire body, but also contains an inner revealing outfit that exposes large patches of dark honey-colored skin for the viewing of those she trusts or those who dominate her.
Obsidian Magic Mirror: One of her casting mediums.
Special Abilities:
[Dark Sorcery]: Curses, Slave Seals, Psychokinesis, Dark Arrows, etc.
[Monster Strengthening]: Can significantly increase the combat power of subordinate monsters/offspring.
[Divine Body]: A powerful body derived from the Father God of this world, immune to blades, spears, fire, water, poison, and disease.
A perfect, eternal body.
[Maternal Aptitude (New)]: As a pure-blooded Dark Elf, she is a perfect breeding ground for the Dragon Race, though she is not yet willing to admit it.
Half-blood Knight – Chloe
Current Status: Unconscious.
Dreaming of Balthazar while her heart yearns for her Queen, wavering between the two.
Stat Profile:
HP: 180/180 (Weakened)
MP: 30/30
Strength: 12 (Strength far exceeding a human warrior, but her slender body gives her a small strike area. Wielding giant weapons would be a good choice, but her sword is only at the level of a one-handed sword.)
Agility: 16 (Incredible flexibility and suppleness, making her capable of enduring the dragon’s size and essence.)
Stamina: 10 (Powerful stamina brought about by a trained body and Dark Elf bloodline, allowing her to endure the dragon’s vigorous desires.)
Intelligence: 6 (Has the tactical level to formulate plans for a hundred men; a competent personal guard knight.)
Perception: 9 (Experience accumulated from battlefield combat, allowing her to quickly judge an enemy’s vitals and deliver a killing blow.)
Equipment:
Naked (Armor removed): Currently has no defense.
Steel Longsword: Chloe’s usual sword, currently being packed into a bag by Olga.
Refined Light Armor: Chloe’s personal guard knight armor, already packed into a bag by Olga.
Special Abilities:
[Guardian Vow]: Sworn to protect Olga to the death.
When entering battle to directly protect Olga, all stats increase.
[Sword Skill: Gale]: A high-speed multi-hit wind sword technique.
[Half-blood Physique]: Possesses both human adaptability and elf agility; similarly suitable as a breeding vessel.
After confirming the status bars of the two, Balthazar let out a low growl toward Olga.
“You will… get your wish.”
“Now… prepare to begin your journey of revenge… set out.”